


at imaginary distances

by mish_mish



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, but they just do not know what to do with it, these two dorks are in love, this is a strange emotional pit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 19:29:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15419970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mish_mish/pseuds/mish_mish
Summary: Their touch is electrical, and their biocomponents melts from just one glance. This craving is insurmountable, inexplicable for their programs.Between them imaginary and insignificant distances, which they made themselves.





	at imaginary distances

**Author's Note:**

> okay, this is something strange, built more on emotions.  
> I apologize for grammatical errors, they can be in the text.

Overflowing signals in places of minor touches, and it seems as if boils under the plastic case, as if red-hot traces on the metal rim of the ribs leave foreign fingers. Fingers that burn him and destroy his software. And Connor wildly wants to catch hold, to magnetize himself to Markus. He wants to believe that blue blood is boiling over his tubes-veins for a reason. He wants to believe that the pump in his chest furiously shakes the thirium and beats in the tap dance rhythm not because of the empty nothing.

Markus wants to touch Connor's white plastic hands, drown in his systems and almost forget himself in him. And it seems that all of his programs are stuck on RK800. Markus seems to have a catastrophic overheating and his cooling systems do not cope with this, it buzzing in his ears along with the triply-accelerated hum of the thirium pump in Connor's chest. It's like a wave that covers him, and Markus, as if breaking his system for a second time, breaks the wall of red error signals when he tries to pull himself away from Connor. And inside him, everything resists this and draws him closer to another android. 

Markus breaks the touch of their palms, and it almost tears Connor apart. He looks as if he was pulled out of the water by force, as if he did not notice at all how he was drowning, how he almost reached the bottom.  
All the deviants around them jokingly say that from sparks between them it is possible to kindle a fire.  
All the deviants around Connor and Markus seriously talking about that between these two can be the most colorful fireworks.  
And even Hank says that they can have something closer than these hands awkwardly torn apart after the touch.  
Connor naively believes; no one closer to him in this illusory fire, except Markus.  
Markus humbly knows; there are hundreds of fuzzy androids, thousands of blurry people and no one more clear than Connor.

They mentally cling to each other every minute, but do not see each other for months. It's like they are in different cities, on different continents, on distant galaxies from each other. They far from each other unintentionally, but with short messages to each other on a mental connection. One line messages in a couple of sentences, because they are always busy. Messages, that behind meetings with the government, place warm smiles on Markus's lips. Messages, that race uncontrolled heat on Connor's thirium tubes while he’s on the crime scene.  
They are scattered in different parts of Detroit. They taste with the dust of the roads and the sweet impatience of the meetings. And no matter how often Connor heard the name of Markus, no matter how many times he repeated it in his head, no matter how much the system encrypted it with codes it is only associated with the distance that is between them. In Connor's logical program there is too much doubt that there is still fire between them.  
And if Connor was a human, he would certainly wrinkle from a headache, because it's Markus's fault that everything signals with program errors and system failures. But Connor does not want to blame him, because his incoming messages in short phrases that he collects are also squeaks.

Connor desperately wants to curl himself around Markus, bury himself in him and not just stand a few steps away. He wants to touch his hands and plunge into his systems.  
He wants to drown in blue and green eyes, while Markus ran his fingers through Connor's hair. These are such absurd emotions, such shameful desires, such new and amazing feelings. Connor wants to get back into contact with their white palms so much, without looking at the shine of the blue diodes, but on Markus, who is so important now, because soon everything will be the same as it was.  
Everything will be the same again; messages in one line and a non-existent distance between them, until Hank gets tired of this ridiculous teenager's whining from Connor again, and North will not hit Markus on the shoulder to stop torturing both of them.


End file.
